


Hold Me In Your Light

by OpalliteGlass



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Angst, Gay Romance, Kinda, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-30 15:26:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12656247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpalliteGlass/pseuds/OpalliteGlass
Summary: After the Apocalypse crisis, Kurt is trying to adjust to his new life as an X-Man. Peter is doing the same, but... with different results.





	1. Chapter 1

_Crisis averted._ Kurt sighed, sinking into the cushions of the couch. He propped his feet up on one of the cushions, relaxing for the first time in years. _Thank God._

He exhaled again, rolling over to look at the crackling fireplace of one of the Mansion’s many common rooms. It was raining outside, he noticed. He didn’t think they’d be able to defeat En Sabah Nur (or as many knew him, Apocalypse), but to his surprise they destroyed the evil mutant and… well, saved the world.

It sounded so weird, even in his head. _Saved the world_. _Rettete die Welt_. No matter what language he said it, it still was such an odd thing to think about. He, a poor, abandoned mutant that once performed in a circus, saved the world. With his friends. Friends? Is that what they were?

His tail flicked off the side of the couch, draping itself over the end armrest by his feet. They had to be friends, right? Or maybe… _family_?

He stopped himself. _No_. _Not family_. Not yet, anyway. He’d been living in the Mansion with the other mutants for a few months now, but Xavier finally confirmed En Sabah’s death only yesterday. He had been scanning across multiple telepathic wavelengths with the help of Jean and Cerebro, and only just now could confirm that yes, Apocalypse was gone for good.

Now, everyone could relax. He reached over the couch, grabbing for his book. He felt the worn leather in his two digits as he pulled it up to him and flipped to his place. He had read this book many, many times over of course, but he always came back to it.

The Practice of the Presence of God. A humble book from 1895 about a man who begins as a starving monk and becomes privy to all the secrets of God. He smiled, flicking through the pages. He sighed one last time as he settled into the cushions and began to read.

Moments passed. Perhaps it was minutes. Maybe even thirty. The rain did not stop. The fire was beginning to burn low. Not low enough to warrant rekindling, but low enough for Kurt to notice. He stretched, his muscles tense from his position. He leaned back, yawning and pulling his arms backwards over the couch’s armrest.

He hit someone.

“Ah!” He yelped, disappearing in a puff of smoke and leaving only the book and an indent in the cushions behind. He reappeared in the corner of the room, only his yellow eyes showing in the darkness.

A silver-haired boy was laughing loudly, slapping his knees in mirth. He wiped a tear from his eye. “Man, you are _jumpy_!” He said before doubling over again. “I just wanted to ask if you wanted dinner. Raven cooked. Which is… unusual for her.” He whispered out of the corner of his mouth. “Seems to me like she is _bored_.”

Kurth unstiffened from his corner. It was just Peter.

“Oh, Peter...” He said awkwardly, trying to recover from his scare. “I, uh… would like food, yes.” He nodded a bit.

Peter looked him up and down. “You okay, dude?” He asked, concerned. “You don’t have to be scared around here.”

Kurt nodded again. “Ah, yes. I, um… understand. It is just… hm.” He stopped, clicking his claws in thought. “Word… what’s the word...”

"Funny?” Peter supplied, grinning again.

“No, no…”

“Hilarious?”

“No, that’s not it...” His accent was becoming worse as he tried to think of the word.

“…did I already say funny?”

“Instinctual!” Kurt said loudly, smiling from ear to it. “It is just instinctual.”

“From what?” Peter was still grinning, cocking an eyebrow. “Is this like a schadenfreude thing? But maybe a jumpscare version of it?” He chuckled. “Cuz I got you good.”

Kurt tilted his head in confusion. “Schadenfreude?” He asked, completely throwing Peter off with his perfect pronunciation (He had mispronounced it as ‘shao-dun-froid’). “That’s pleasure in someone else’s suffering.” He looked at Peter. “Is that what you’re feeling?”

Peter blushed immediately. Something had clearly been lost in translation. “No, no! I just, I was playing a prank! Like, a joke!” He looked away from Kurt, embarrassed and unable to meet those piercing yellow eyes. “I was just trying to make a joke...”

 

Immediately, all animosity from Kurt vanished. “And you just fell for mine!” He began laughing. “You should have seen the look on your face!” It was his turn to double over. “I’m not so sensitive, Peter. I slept in a cage for ten years.”

Peter’s blush intensified. He was not used to being on the receiving end of a joke. His quick wit and physical mutation usually allowed him to be the joker, not the jokee. He didn’t know how to feel about it. Then he realized something.

“A cage?” He asked. “You slept in a cage?”

Kurt was still smiling, but Peter saw something in his eyes change. He walked around the couch, re-arranging his cushions to make it more presentable. “Yes. It’s not important.” He sighed, something he was really getting used to around the Mansion. “It is in the past.” His tail flicked happily, nudging Peter’s boot.

“Oh, sorry. It does that sometimes.”

“No, no it’s fine.” Peter said, still looking at Kurt as he tidied up the couch. “Is that why?”

Kurt looked at him, confused. “Is that why what?”

“Is that why you’re jumpy-” Peter cut himself off. His motor-mouth was about to get him into trouble again. He liked Kurt, and he liked the new friends he was making around the Mansion.

Maybe he had just lost another one.

But Kurt kept smiling. “You like questions.” He said simply. “It fits you.” He finished straightening the last cushion. “There’s a lot of reasons. That is one of them, yes.” He bent to pick up his book, placing it on the armrest. “But like I said, it is in the past. Nothing from the past can hurt you.” He looked down at his claws, his blue skin. “It is the future that is the most scary.”

Peter was more curious now than ever. “How do you… deal with it?” He asked, trying to tread lightly. He was used to getting unusually deep with his friends (due to the aforementioned motor-mouth), but this felt… different. Kurt was open and honest. It didn’t feel like he was just putting up with Peter to get him to go away.

“I have God.” Kurt replied, tapping the book. “I have my faith. And now, I have all of you wonderful people.” He spread his arms wide, his grin baring his sharp, razor-like teeth. “So, I am not afraid. Worried, but not afraid.”

Peter shimmied uncomfortably, his boot digging into the carpet. “I have problems with people. They think I’m too fast or too annoying or I just don’t listen or they don’t listen.” He was beginning to ramble. “I think I feel the same as you. Worried, not afraid. I’ve got my sister.” He nudged the side of the couch, as if trying to occupy his mind. “I’ve got my mom. I’ve got you.” He paused, eyes wide at his slip. “-guys. I’ve got you guys.”

Kurt didn’t even notice. “I am glad. It is nice to feel welcome.” He stopped, his nostriles flaring. “Is that… the food?”

Peter hadn’t even noticed the smell until now. It was a dark, smoky odor.

 _Too_ smoky.

The alarms in the Mansion began blaring. Peter could hear Raven roar, “Fuck it! We’re ordering delivery!”


	2. Chapter 2

Peter was stuffed. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Recently, most of his nights had been like this. A quirk of his mutation was that he rarely needed to sleep, but he still enjoyed just laying in bed. His stomach growled loudly in protest.

He may have overdid it on the noodles. After Raven had burned dinner, Jubilee ordered from her Uncle’s restaurant. An hour later, and they were devouring the pseudo-Asian feast her family had provided. To be honest, he was a little jealous of Jubi’s family. They loved her mutation, even named her after it. Jubilation Lee. ‘Jubilee’. A happy name for a happy girl. A fitting name for someone who could basically shoot fireworks from her hands. She was one of the very few students at the Mansion who’s parents came to visit every now and then.

He sighed quietly. He shouldn’t be jealous. At least he had a mom. Kind of. The Mansion usually had some sounds at night, the nocturnal students making their rounds to class. But today was Saturday. No classes. No late-night activity. Nothing but the sound of the crickets outside his bedroom window.

But then he heard whimpering.

Crickets don’t whimper.

Immediately, he hopped out of bed. Where was that sound coming from? It sounded like someone was crying? Was someone hurt?

With lightning fast speed, he rushed out of his room and down the hall, following the sound until he stopped with pinpoint accuracy in front of the closed door it was emanating from. He didn’t know who’s room this was. If it was a girl, he could get in trouble for barging in. But he was never one for thinking ahead.

He knocked twice, then opened the door. The blinds were drawn. There was very little furniture in this room compared to his. No computer, no games, just a shelf, desk, and bed. The blankets on the bed were moving slightly as the person beneath made half-groans in their sleep.

“Hey...” Peter whispered, trying to wake them up gently. “Hey, wake up.” He walked slowly to the bed. “You’re having a bad dream, or something.” He carefully pulled the blankets back, bracing himself for the worst if it was a girl.

But it wasn’t. It was Kurt. He thrashed weakly, clearly enthralled in a less than pleasant dream. His blue skin was almost invisible in the low-light, but Peter could make out the defined shape of his exposed chest. His sharp, razor-like teeth were the brightest part of him, gnashing out at something only he could see.

Peter felt blood rush to his cheeks before remembering what was more important.

“Kurt, dude...” He nudged the blue boy, earning a dismissive groan. “Kurt, wake up.”

With a comical snort, Kurt’s eyes flew open.

Red eyes. Now his teeth were no longer the center of attention. He was breathing hard, his tail rising from the blankets as if to scout out the situation.

“What’s happening?” He asked sleepily. “Is there a mission? What did I miss?” His voice was already becoming tinged with worry.

"Nah, no alarm.” Peter said. “You were having a nightmare, I think.”

“Oh.” Kurt let the response hang in the air for a moment before continuing. “How embarrassing.” He pushed the blankets off of his body, revealing a pair of boxer with lightning bolts on them (something he had to have from his trip to the mall months ago). “I hope I didn’t disturb you...”

 _Oh God._ Peter thought. _The guilt in those eyes…_

“No, no!” He said, much too loudly. “No, I wasn’t disturbed! I mean, I was, but like, in a good way! Because you were disturbed! So I knew you were having problems! So it’s okay!” His answers were awkward and clumsy.

“I, uh...” Kurt was having a hard time tracking Peter’s sentences. “I’m not sure I completely understand...” His cheeks flushed a strange violet color from the strangeness of the situation.

Peter wanted to kick himself in the throat.

“No, it’s okay!” He continued, still far too loud. He stopped for a moment, breathing in to control his volume and settle himself. “It’s okay.” He repeated. “I was worried about you.”

The red eyes flicked to his. “Really?” His tail waved happily. “That is very kind of you.”

“What were you dreaming about-” Peter’s question died in his throat.

His stupid fucking mouth.

Kurt didn’t reply immediately. He just stared off into the middle distance sadly before breaking the brief silence. “Lots of things.”

Peter didn’t say anything. Every part of him burned to know, but he knew from past experience that saying the wrong thing right now would ruin this relationship before it could even really start. But then he heard Kurt chuckle.

“Why are you shaking?” He asked. “Do you need to go the bathroom?”

He was rolling nothing but gutter balls tonight.

“No, it’s just… are you okay?” He asked, giving a vague answer to supplant the awkwardness that Kurt clearly wasn’t really picking up on. “You can talk about it, if you want.”

“That boy.” Kurt said immediately, throwing Peter off completely.

“That… boy?” Peter repeated, confused.

“The boy with the wings.” He continued.

 _Ohhh_. Now Peter knew who Kurt was talking about.

“You mean Warren? That asshole that tried to kill us?”

Kurt nodded. “Do you think… I mean, where do you think...” He was struggling to find words.

“Where is he now?” Peter supplied. “I mean, he’s dead. You killed-”

Peter wanted to catapult himself into the Sun. Everything made sense now and Peter, as usual, was late on the uptake.

"Oh.” He said quietly. “Is that… what you’re talking about?”

Kurt nodded again, bringing his knees to his chest. “I’ve been thinking about that for a long time, now. Many times, I was told by scripture to never kill.” His tail looped around to point at one of the many spirals and symbols that scarred his chest. “I had to add another Engelkratzer...” As if to make a point, the tip of the tail dug into the skin ever-so-slightly.

Peter’s eyes widened. Kurt was cutting himself. Not for the same reasons most people do, but he was still cutting himself. He had thought those symbolic scars were a result of his mutation. But now the truth was dawning on him.

“You’re… scarring yourself?” He asked, now incredibly uncomfortable.

“One for every sin.” Kurt said quietly. “That’s what they taught me. I was told I was a demon, and when you’re young, well...” He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You believe them. Now of course, I know the truth. But, I guess… ‘old habits die hard’, I think is the saying?”

“You can’t do that...” Peter whispered. He was having trouble processing what he was learning. That beautiful blue skin, marred by it’s owners own design. Born of guilt, of torment. Every swirling pattern, every single symbol, was a mark of suffering. “You can’t do that, Kurt...”

“I know, it’s bad...” Kurt said sadly. “I mostly stopped when I became fifteen. It became hard to perform.” He sighed. “But then I…” This word was forced out of his mouth in disgust. “ _Sinned_.”

Peter had no idea what to say. It didn’t even occur to him that Kurt had killed. How it must have tortured him. None of the other students had killed, not even Raven.

He was not equipped for this. But he was still gonna try.

He sat on the edge of the bed, silver hair rustling from the movement. The action confused Kurt, since the normally talkative Peter had gone quiet.

“Peter, what are you-”

Kurt was silenced when Peter pressed his lips, quick as a flash, into the taller boy’s own. Peter pushed, going far deeper than he should have on a first kiss. His eyes were closed, reveling in the moment, the feeling of finally understanding where all of this awkwardness was coming from. Then he opened them.

He did not like what he saw.

_Anger._

“Get out.” Kurt’s voice was flat, something Peter had never heard before. His eyes, normally so wide and bright, were narrow.

“Wait, wait...” Peter was confused. He didn’t know what he did wrong. He thought Kurt would’ve liked this? Would’ve made him feel better? “Wait, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” He hopped off the bed.

"Get out, _now_.” The tail whipped around, pointing the razor-sharp tip at his chest.

“Kurt, I’m sorry...” Peter was backing up, putting space between himself and the boy but not willing to leave just yet. “I thought, I didn’t want to- I don’t want you to be mad at me!”

“I am not mad.” Kurt said. “But you need to leave. Now.”

Peter kept stepping towards the door, but he needed to understand. “I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, I just thought-”

“You overstep.” Kurt cut him off. “It was not the right time.”

 _Fuck_. Peter thought, pressing against the door. _Fuck, fuck, fuck_.

“Kurt, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Peter kept repeating that, hoping it would make Kurt like him again. “I wanted to make you feel better, I just didn’t know- I just was- I was trying to-” He was rambling, like he always did when he was upset. His mind was moving too fast for his mouth, thoughts and words getting cut off and mashed together.

“I appreciate the thought.” Kurt said. “But I have other things to think about.”

He was losing him. And he had just gotten him, too.

“Kurt, please, I’m sorry. Just, forget it ever happened. Never even thought of it, just being stupid, not thinking, too fast.” It was getting worse. “Don’t want to make- upset you-”

“Stop.” Kurt held up a hand, cutting Peter off just before he started crying. “You just need to leave for tonight. Come back tomorrow. You will talk. I will listen. Then I will talk. You will listen.” His manner of speaking was mechanical now. “I like you too. But… we need to discuss things first.” He smiled, breaking the neutral mask. “Too fast, Peter. Way, way too fast.”

 


End file.
